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Born in Southern Ontario, Lynsay Sands is the New York Times bestselling author of the Argeneau Vampire series. She has written more than 34 books and anthologies since her first novel was published in 1997. Her romantic comedies span three genres—historical, contemporary, and paranormal—and have made the Waldenbooks, Barnes & Noble, USA Today, and New York Times bestseller lists.
Lynsay's books are read in more than twelve countries and have been translated into at least six languages. She's been a nominee for both the Romantic Times Best Historical Romance Award and the Romantic Times Best Paranormal Romance Award, was nominated and placed three times in the RIO (Reviewers International Organization) Awards of Excellence, and has several books on All About Romance's Favorite Funnies list.
Author biography courtesy of HarperCollins Publishers
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October 01, 2006: This is my first Lynsay Sands and it sure won't be my last. I laughed out loud reading it. I loved Clarissa. She's so forgiving even when people have done her wrong.
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July 28, 2006: Every girl who has ever worn glasses knows how Lady Clarissa feels as this story opens as if no man will ever look twice at you again because you are four-eyed. Clarissa could cope with that, however. She can barely cope with not seeing and the inherent clutziness that comes with her dim view on the world, but her stepmother has forbidden her to wear her spectacles. This works out well for Adrian Montfort, Earl of Mowbray as the war has left a scar on his face that repels all women who see him clearly. He seeks Clarissa out, and soon begins to court her and to fall in love. He even wins her hand, but their happiness might be short-lived as someone wants to kill Clarissa. ........... ***** This is a pure delight of a story. Clarissa and Adrian's misunderstanding is poignantly realistic, and her kindness in forgiving those who wrong her is lovely. Love is Blind is the epitomy of a feel good romance. The mystery is an added bonus. *****
Name:
Lynsay Sands
Current Home:
London, Ontario
Place of Birth:
Leamington, Ontario
Born in Southern Ontario, Lynsay Sands is the New York Times bestselling author of the Argeneau Vampire series. She has written more than 34 books and anthologies since her first novel was published in 1997. Her romantic comedies span three genres—historical, contemporary, and paranormal—and have made the Waldenbooks, Barnes & Noble, USA Today, and New York Times bestseller lists.
Lynsay's books are read in more than twelve countries and have been translated into at least six languages. She's been a nominee for both the Romantic Times Best Historical Romance Award and the Romantic Times Best Paranormal Romance Award, was nominated and placed three times in the RIO (Reviewers International Organization) Awards of Excellence, and has several books on All About Romance's Favorite Funnies list.
Author biography courtesy of HarperCollins Publishers
1.) I started The Deed (my first romantic comedy and the first book to be published) a year after my mother's death. I was very close to my mother and the year following her death was about the most miserable time imaginable. But then I decided I was tired of being down and unhappy, and looked around for something to lift my spirits and make me laugh. When I couldn't find anything, I decided to sit down and write my own. It worked! Emmalene and Amaury's antics in The The Deed had me chuckling as I wrote.
2.) I met my husband in New York in July 2003. I was there because of the RWA conference and he was there on vacation. The first day there we kept running into each other and chatting in front of the hotel, and then he asked to join our group (it was very brave of him. He was the lone male amongst six or seven women, lol). He's a Brit and I'm Canadian and the first two months of our relationship were conducted by phone as well as over the internet. Our first date was a week in New York in September, followed by three weeks in England. He then came to Canada in both November and December, the first time to propose and the second time for Christmas with my family and then to take me back to England with him for New Years. I lived in Northern England for two years. We married in New York and now live in Canada.
3.) I was writing about my husband before I met him. Single White Vampire came out in September 2003 and I took a copy with me to England when I went for the three weeks. I walked into my now-hubby's house to find at least six months worth of mail unopened and stacked up on a shelf inside the front door. When I stopped dead, eyes going wide with shock and asked "My God. That's mail. You don't open your mail?" He looked embarrassed and muttered some explanation about bills automatically being paid by the bank so no need to open those and everything else was unsolicited and he couldn't be bothered. When I burst out laughing, he started to frown and said "What?" My response was to dig out the copy of Single White Vampire and hand it over with the suggestion he read it. The mail thing wasn't the only similarity he had to Lucern Argeneau. There are many more and when he sat down to read the book, he kept stopping and turning a rather startled and even suspicious gaze my way and muttering that this sounded familiar" or that did. I had to point out that it really was coincidence, that I had written that story at least nine months before meeting him. LOL.
What are your ten favorite books, and what makes them special to you?
This is a hard question for me. I am horrible at recalling names and titles. Aside from that, when it comes to books I'm kind of like a cheap tart dropped amongst a boat load of sailors. I love them all. While I keep every book I read, I've never read a book more than once, there's always another one to read. However, regarding favorites...
For me the first book that stands out in my mind isn't one but many. The Nancy Drew series. I adored those books when young and am pretty sure I read every one. I don't think they have a single author but various. Either way, I couldn't tell you names of authors or even book titles, just that I loved the books and that if I couldn't grow up to be Nancy Drew and have the adventure and mystery in life that she had, then growing up to write such things is a lovely alternative.
Another early influence was Julie Garwood's early works. I'm afraid when I was young I was completely turned off historical romance by some pretty horrid bodice rippers owned by my grandmother on my father's side. Stories from the day when the "hero" could be completely horrid to the female; abuse her verbally, treat her cruelly and even rape her and yet the heroine "loved him" and understood he was just "wounded" and that - with the love of a good woman - he could be tamed, changed, healed. Ugh! Bleck! Yuck! I mean geeeeeeez, how could any woman fall in love with a man who starts out by being beastly? Puhleeeeze!! So, I was totally anti-romance, and then, while I was in University, my sister brought me a Julie Garwood book. I'm afraid I can't remember which one, but she brought it around and said I should read it. I wasn't interested. She pestered me to read it. I just kept shaking my head with disgust and muttering "Historical romance! No thanks!" She assured me it wasn't "like that" and begged me to read it. Nope, not me. This went on for months. I forget now how she actually convinced me to read it. It might have been sheer determination and that I read it just to get her off my back. Certainly, I read it expecting to toss it aside after a chapter or so and inform her - with some vindication - that historicals were utter. . . ummm . . . garbage. Instead, I had to admit it was good, and fun, and the hero was actually worthy of the title. It was the first time I saw historicals as something that could be fun and entertaining.
If I'm going to list favorites, I also have to mention anything by Dean Koontz. I've been reading him FOREVER. Okay, that makes us both sound ancient, but you know what I mean. Dean Koontz just somehow manages to grab you with the first paragraph and hold onto you until the end. And while he's listed as a horror writer, really his books usually have everything in them; suspense, adventure, action, romance and even mystery. I've never read a Dean Koontz I haven't liked.
And then, of course, there's J. K. Rowling. Few people have managed to avoid getting drawn into her Harry and Hogwarts world, and I'm afraid I was in the first wave of converts. How could you help but love a story that was like a fairy tale. There's poor Harry a male Cinderella being treated so shabbily and forced to live under the stairs until along comes Hagrid to inform him he's special. He's taken away to an amazing world, an incredible and fascinating alternate reality where he's famous and where he finds a family of his own as well as people who care about him. It's classic!
The most recent favorite I've found is Deborah MacGillvray. I read her first book Restless Knight before it was published and gave a quote for the cover. I don't often experience envy of other author's skills, but will admit that I did while reading Restless Knight. This author is very, very talented. I am not big on books that spend thirty or forty pages describing a room or scene. They bore me. I've always felt self-conscious about admitting that because someone once said that it was a sign of the MTV age and immaturity and a short attention span. Basically, they made me feel a complete idiot with "immature and unrefined" tastes for not enjoying a three page description of a leaf on the ground. Well, my answer to that will now be that it's a shame to waste so much space on such descriptions when a really gifted writer can give you enough description with just a few deft words that you can feel the warmth of a fire on your cheek and hear the crackle and hiss of it as it burns. Ms MacGillvray can do that. That first book was exceptional and I have since purchased her second historical as well as her two contemps that have followed . . . now I just have to find the time to read them. That's something I'm looking forward to. If they're half as good as her first book, I know I'll enjoy them.
I guess I'd best stop there. Each favorite author or series I've mentioned has anywhere from 4 to 60 books so I've definitely done the ten.
What types of music do you like? Is there any particular kind you like to listen to when you're writing?
I like all types of music; pop, rock, classic rock, classical. Sometimes I'll restrict myself to classical music while writing historicals, but otherwise anything goes and the music I listen to depends on my mood.
If you had a book club, what would it be reading -- and why?
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Because its one book I could be relatively certain everyone would enjoy.
What are your favorite kinds of books to give -- and get -- as gifts?
I never buy books as gifts. Book choices are very personal and I'd be afraid to get them the wrong book. Besides, hanging out at the bookstore and picking the book is half the fun in my opinion. So, instead I give them gift cards so that they can make the selection themselves.
Do you have any special writing rituals? For example, what do you have on your desk when you're writing?
I clean my desk and office before I start a new story. I think it's a mental "clearing of the path" for me. I also have a lucky troll that sits on my desk. He's been there from the start.
What are you working on now?
The next Argeneau story.
Many writers are hardly "overnight success" stories. How long did it take for you to get where you are today? Any rejection-slip horror stories or inspirational anecdotes?
I sent my first book in to Harlequin between high school and university and received -- not a rejection, but a letter basically saying to make some changes and send it back in, as well as to send in anything else I'd written. Unfortunately, I didn't realize how wonderful a letter that was at the time or that it meant I'd caught this editor's attention or even what that meant. All I really registered was that the story wasn't good enough and was being rejected. In truth, I don't think I was ready to enter the publishing world (grin). So, I got a full time job and went to University full time and so on. It was ten years before I wrote The Deed, sent it in and sold it.
If you could choose one new writer to be "discovered," who would it be -- and why?
Deborah MacGillvray - The woman can write. Everything of hers I've read so far is great, but her historicals are especially powerful. Her plots are solid, characters are loveable and she has a way with description that draws you in and puts you right there with the characters amongst the heather and mist.
What tips or advice do you have for writers still looking to be discovered?
Write what you love to read. If you're loving it, others are more likely to love it too.
Start with a bang!! Editors are busy people, you want to grab their attention right away, not be tossed aside after they've skimmed a couple of pages. So, grab their attention with your opening and then don't let it go.
Try to avoid the slush pile, query rather than just send the manuscript in cold. Go get a copy of The Writer's Market for this year (they put one out every year) This book will help with the query and help you figure out which publishers print your sort of story, which of them accept unagented, unsolicited manuscripts, and just basically who to query.
Good luck!!
What else would you like your readers to know? Consider here your likes and dislikes, your interests and hobbies, your favorite ways to unwind -- whatever comes to mind.
I'm a very shy person. Really, it's true. No one believes me but it is true.
Loading...Despite the inclusion of the word 'please', it was not a request, but an order, and one Clarissa was heartily sick of hearing her stepmother give. If the woman would simply allow her to wear her spectacles, she would have no need to squint. She would also not be constantly bumping into things and people. But no, of course, she must not wear her spectacles. That would put off suitors.
As if her clumsiness did not, Clarissa thought wearily, and grimaced inwardly over some of the little 'accidents' she'd had since arriving in London. Aside from upending tea trays and missing tables with her plates, she'd taken a terrible tumble down the stairs. Fortunately, she hadn't hurt herself over much, suffering bruises and stiffness, but nothing broken. Then there was the little incident of falling out in front of a moving carriage, not to mention her having set Lord Prudhomme's wig on fire.
Another sigh slid from her lips as Clarissa recalled Lydia's lecture after the last accident. Her stepmother had decided that - as she was so blind and clumsy without her spectacles - there was only one way for her to go on. Clarissa was to sit quietly in future when in the presence of others. She was not to touch candles, cups,plates, or.... well.... basically anything. She was no longer to eat in company, but was to claim she was not hungry ... whether she was or not. Neither was she to drink. Walking was even out without her maid to lead her.
Clarissa had burst into this lecture several times with "But, if you would only allow me to wear my spectacles-" And, each time, Lydia had responded with a grim, "Never!" And then continued on with all the other things she was never to do.
By the time Lydia had finished, all Clarissa was supposed to do in the presence of others was sit at her stepmother's side, looking serene ... which meant, no squinting.
Sighing, Clarissa turned her gaze away from the blur of people swinging past on the dance floor and stared wearily at the pale pink blur of her own hands in the yellow haze of her lap. It was going to be another boring night.
"May I have this dance?"
Clarissa heard the request, but didn't bother to look up. Why should she? It wasn't as if she could see anything anyway. Instead, she waited unhappily for her stepmother to speak, wondering the whole while who the stranger was that he had not heard of her. Anyone who had heard the tales of her clumsiness, surely would not approach.
Realizing that Lydia hadn't yet politely demurred the request on her behalf by saying she was too tired, or whatever excuse she chose, Clarissa glanced to her side with a frown to find that the pink blur that was Lydia was no longer there. When a black blur suddenly moved into the seat, Clarissa sat back with a start.
A frown forming on her face, she turned blindly, searching the haze of color around her for her stepmother's bright pink blur.
"I believe the lady who was sitting here a moment ago went off in search of food," the deep voice was so close to her ear that Clarissa felt his breath on her delicate lobe.
Suppressing a shiver, she turned her attention quickly back to the man at her side. He had a lovely, deep gravelly voice that she found pleasing and his blurred form appeared quite large. For the millionth time Clarissa wished she had her spectacles and could see.
"Did she not tell you where she was going?" he asked now. "I thought I saw her speak to you before leaving."
Clarissa blushed slightly, and quickly returned her gaze to the blur of colorful movement that was the dance floor as she admitted, "She may have. I fear I was distracted by my own thoughts and not paying attention."
While she had a vague recollection of Lydia murmuring something to her, Clarissa had been sunk too deep in her own misery to pay her much heed. It was humiliating to sit here catching bits of conversation as people gossiped unkindly about her. Her clumsiness was apparently quite the joke of the season. She'd earned the moniker Clumsy Clarissa and everyone was wondering what she would do next to entertain them.
"They say you are as blind as a bat, and too vain to wear spectacles."
Clarissa blinked in surprise at this blurted announcement. If she was taken aback by his bluntness, she suspected it was no more so than the speaker. She'd heard a small gasp of breath as he finished, as if he'd just realized what he'd said. A quick glance to the side showed that he'd raised his hand as if to cover his mouth.
"I am sorry, I have obviously been too long out of society. I should never have-"
"Oh bother." Clarissa waved his apology away and sank back in her seat with a dejected sigh. "'Tis all right. I do know what people are saying. They seem to think that I am deaf as well as clumsy, for they do not worry about saying it in front of me - or at least behind their fans - loudly enough for me to hear." Making a face, she mimicked those she spoke of. "Oh look, there she is, poor thing, Clumsy Clarissa."
"I am sorry," he said quietly.
Clarissa waved his words away again, only this time noting the way he dodged as if to avoid a sound blow to the head. Frowning, she clasped her hands together and settled them in her lap as she repeated, "There is no need to apologize. At least you said it to my face."
"Yes, well ..." The man seemed to relax in his seat now that her hands weren't waving wildly around. "Actually, it was more a question. I was wondering if you truly are?"
Clarissa smiled wryly. "Ah, well, I am not quite as blind as a bat. I can see with spectacles. But, my stepmother has taken them away." She threw a dry smile in the general direction of his blurry shape and then shrugged. "Lydia seems to think that I will have more luck setting a fire in some suitable man's heart without them. Though the only thing as yet that I have set fire to is Lord Prudhomme's wig."
"Excuse me?" he asked with amazement. "Prudhomme's wig?"
"Hmm." She leaned back in her chair and actually managed to chuckle at the memory. "Yes. Though if you ask me, 'twas not wholly my fault. The man knew that I could not see without my spectacles. Why the deuce he asked me to move the candle closer is beyond me." Clarissa paused to squint in her companion's general direction. "He is bald as a cue ball without his wig, is he not?"
She thought he nodded, though it was hard to say. The man was emitting small choked sounds. It took her a moment to identify them. He was fighting desperately not to laugh.
"Go ahead and laugh," Clarissa said with a small smile. "I did. Though, not right away."
He relaxed somewhat then. She could actually feel the muscles in the arm and leg pressed against her own, expand. But, he only expelled a small chuckle.
Clarissa squinted again, trying to bring his face into focus. She wanted very much to see his face. She liked the sound of his laugh, and his voice when he spoke was husky yet soft, it was really quite ... attractive, she decided. And, while Clarissa should have moved over rather than allow the intimate closeness of his hip rubbing against hers with every move, she quite liked that too, so, she pretended not to notice.
"How did Lord Prudhomme take this little accident?"
Clarissa gave up trying to see his face and smiled good-naturedly. "Not at all well. He thought it was all my fault. He called me quite a few nasty names too. I think he would have hit me, but the servants wrestled him from the house," she admitted with a small frown, then sighed and added, "Of course, my stepmother - Lydia - then lectured me ad nauseam afterward about all that I must and must not do from now on."
"Such as?"
"Pretty much everything is off limits," Clarissa said cheerfully. "Let's see, no eating in public, no drinking in public ... In fact, I am not to touch anything in public; candles, flower vases, anything. I am not even supposed to walk without someone to guide me."
"But she did not say no dancing?"
"No. But then, she did not have to." Clarissa's smile faded. She hesitated and then tried to explain. "Everything is a blur you see, so, when I whirl about, all I see are blurs of color and light flashing around. I lose my balance, and ..." She paused and shrugged, but a blush was creeping over her face as she remembered the last brave soul who had asked her to dance. Clarissa had ended up tripping him up as well, so they had both ended on the floor. Very embarrassing.
"Then keep your eyes shut."
"What?" Clarissa glanced blankly at the dark blur beside her.
"Keep your eyes closed and you will not lose your balance," the man explained, then she saw his hand move closer to her. He was offering her a hand to rise.
Clarissa opened her mouth to refuse and then paused as his hand suddenly enclosed hers, sending a shock of sensation racing up her arm. It was such an odd feeling, like excitement, but alive, coursing across her flesh.
"I do not ..." she began faintly with bewilderment, pausing when his hand lifted her chin and he bent to stare into her eyes. Close enough to kiss, she thought vaguely. Good, God, Clarissa realized, close enough to see! For one brief second, she stared clearly into the most beautiful set of brown velvet eyes she'd ever seen, then, he pulled back slightly, and out of focus.
"Trust me." It was not so much a request, as an order. But, Clarissa remembered those eyes, so dark, so kind, and she nodded her head. Then he was tugging her out of her seat, and directing her through the crowd of dancers to the middle of the dance floor.
"Now ..." His voice was calm and soothing as he turned her to face him. "Close your eyes," he instructed, lifting her free hand to his shoulder. "Relax."
His voice was almost hypnotic, Clarissa thought vaguely.
"Follow me. I will not allow you to stumble."
Continues...
Excerpted from Love Is Blind by Lynsay Sands Copyright © 2007 by Lynsay Sands. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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